


Sink Into The Darkness

by orphan_account



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Angst, Darkfic, M/M, Post-Advent Children (Compilation of FFVII), Post-Dirge of Cerberus (Compilation of FFVII), References to Depression, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-01-30 14:04:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21429427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Cloud was so tired of thinking. He'd drawn further and further away from everyone. And eventually, there are arms to sink into.Sometimes, you become so tired and disillusioned that you don't have a conscience. Things don't seem important anymore.
Relationships: Sephiroth/Cloud Strife
Comments: 2
Kudos: 56





	Sink Into The Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> This is fiction only, written as catharsis of sorts.
> 
> The ending of this can be what you decide it is.
> 
> written by Breakout-Sunshine.

So long, fighting.

So very long, thinking. Knowing how much and how little he was worth, both at the same time.  
And trying _not_ to think. Distractions.  
Trying to connect with others... as if that had ever been his forte.

People had thrown flowers, at the solstice festival last week. Called him 'hero'. 

A few had spat instead. Yelled accusations - Cloud and his cronies had brought all the current troubles, had caused Meteor.   
Stupid haters, Yuffie had scoffed next to him. They need someone to blame. Don't listen.  
"Yeah", he'd responded. But only the logical part of his brain agreed.

He knew who'd always wanted to become a hero, a real hero, and succeeded. In more ways than one.  
Zack was... the guy who could befriend everyone. And who'd still somehow seen good in Cloud, given such attention to him. Saved him.  
Cloud had only wanted to be one person, specifically. Not just any hero. _Special._

Cloud, who found it so hard to accept forgiveness, even though everyone else believed he deserved it.  
Cloud, who had a block in his soul.

He'd believed the block would slowly go away, when he was young. Once he 'made it'. A couple of people had made it through the block, warming him, just a little.

Now, it had been obvious to him for years. That internal block was never going away.  
He couldn't talk to people. He couldn't connect. Occasionally, the kids, but that was it.  
Sometimes, he tried. And either got an anxious or bossy response, from Tifa, occasional adulation from the sort who threw flowers, or... the closing of social shutters in most people's eyes.  
He was alone.  
He often liked his own company and found being with people uncomfortable a lot. But ... he was _alone._ Alone in his soul. There had been no appearances from the Lifestream since that last time, either. Perhaps they could only appear when Sephiroth did.   
He was alone. Nothing warmed him any more.  
And it was ... unbearable.  
He was so tired.  
  
He lay down on the bed and hoped this time he could sleep. His eyes closed, opened, closed. He turned over.

When the lullaby came, it was bliss.  
He pictured Aerith singing, her lilting sweet voice, her smiling eyes.

And yet, somehow, part of him knew this was different, even as he tried to picture her. It was something more luminous, something _more._  
And Cloud could barely even remember why he shouldn't listen, if this wasn't Aerith.  
He was so tired.  


Wordless. Haunting.  
Utterly, utterly relaxing.  
Drawing him in.  
Drawing him down. Into himself.  
Relax.  
Give.

Bliss.  
Relief.  
Arms stole around Cloud, strong and tight - or perhaps they were bonds around his psyche, and he was too far gone to protest.  
There was a soft laugh. First in the same voice as the lullaby had been - and then, it changed. Deeper. Darker. Resonant. Full of satisfaction, dark triumph.  
Cloud shuddered, a deep, whole body shudder as Sephiroth's voice now hummed to him, the very same wordless lullaby.  
There was one last, feeble protest of that part of Cloud's mind that had fought for so long.

He found he didn't even care. He was _ready_ to capitulate. He couldn't even remember why his conscience should be alarmed.

It felt like feathers caressed his bare skin, or perhaps, gloved fingers. He shivered, but it felt amazing.

"Good, Cloud," said the resonant, deep voice. "Reunion awaits. You will remain a part of me. Always."


End file.
